


Ghost Like Soul

by scarlettandblue



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettandblue/pseuds/scarlettandblue
Summary: This story has spoilers up to season 4 episode 7.It is going to be adult in nature and slashy with sex and swearing and all the good stuf





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another refugee from Live Journal, this one is unfinished
> 
> With much thanks to my hard working beta kyrdwyn  
> if there are any mistakes remaining in this its because I went back after the beta work was done and interfered!!
> 
> Words are not enough to say how much the writing of the amazing myrna1_2_3 and the absolutely fabulous duo of innerslytherin and  
> severity_softly who write such incredible Dave and Spence has inspired me to have a go.
> 
> Title from Sad Eyed Lady of the Uplands .. By Bob Dylan  
> saintlike face  
> And your ghostlike soul  
> Oh who among them  
> could ever think  
> he could destroy you

Dave has been watching Reid since his return to the BAU. He had formed an opinion of the younger man but then Las Vegas changed all that.

He wasn't sure at first if staying behind to help Reid was the right thing to do. Morgan eventually persuaded him it was the only thing to do.

David Rossi had actually spent some pretty wild week-ends in Vegas, back in the day. By comparison, the time he spent with Morgan, that first night after they made their pact to stay, if that's what Spencer wanted, was pretty tame.

After the team meal ended they went their separate ways, Emily said she wanted to hit a few bars so she tagged along. In spite of Dave's most persuasive reasoning Aaron headed back to their hotel, taking JJ with him. Prentiss bailed after four bars and ten Cosmopolitans, so they poured her into a cab, and called to Aaron, who was predictably still awake and probably working in his room. He promised to meet her taxi and make sure she got back to her room. Dave and Morgan carried on to the next bar.

Four more bars and Morgan was in a kind of haze. He was able to stand, and he could walk in whatever direction he was pointed, but he had no concept whatsoever of what he was actually doing. Dave, meanwhile, was really feeling in the groove.

They ended up at the Peppermint Palace, it was the least sleazy strip joint Dave had ever been in. The music was pretty subtle, the lighting was restrained and the dancers actually were dancers. Morgan sat, smiling and drinking beside the runway, while a parade of pretty women did their thing about three inches from his face.

After half an hour two beauties in rhinestone thongs approached them offering lap dances. Morgan seemed cool with the idea but Dave began to think this wasn't such a good place to be with a drunk and very willing Derek Morgan. He handed the ladies fifty dollars each, thanked them and explained they were just leaving. He man-handled Morgan out to the entrance and got them in a cab with minimal fuss.

Once they were back at the Fountain View Dave stopped at the front desk to get some soluble aspirin from the concierge before he herded Derek into the elevator and got him up to his room. Morgan was a pliable, good natured drunk and he let Dave take his boots and jacket off and he even drank the water with three of the aspirins dissolved in it. So when he woke up the following morning. Morgan was headache free and had spent a relatively comfortable night.

David Rossi by contrast has spent a thoroughly miserable night and he felt like utter shit when he woke a scant few hours later. But any man who had partied through the seventies and survived knew a thing or two about faking it in the grey light of day. Four aspirin, a triple espresso and two chocolate beignets didn't do any harm either.

Prentiss looked as if she should have been dead in a crime scene photo on the BAU notice board instead of standing in the foyer of the hotel listening to the soothing melody of thirty slot machines. She rained on Morgan's parade pretty quickly and even snapped at JJ, which was completely unheard of on the team. Dave had a feeling Prentiss was going to regret that for months to come. JJ was one of those people who looked like she was made of milk and honey but according to office gossip she was hell on wheels when it came to holding a grudge.

When Spencer finally rushed in with only minutes to spare and told them he was going to stay behind to spend time with his mother Dave had to hand it to his team mates, they were consummate actors in the performance of their roles as clueless chumps; and Spencer left with the air of someone who had expected more of an argument. JJ and Prentiss gathered up their bags, heading out to where their driver was waiting, while Dave caught Morgan's eye and and signalled he wanted to speak to him privately. They waited until the women were outside.

Morgan reminded him this was what they had talked about last night, he said he was happy to stay in Vegas to keep an eye on Reid, but he'd understand if Rossi had changed his mind. He seemed genuinely surprised when Dave said he had no intention of going back on what they'd agreed. Morgan called the boss at the airport, letting him know the new plan. Hotch gave them the go-ahead to stay a few extra days, he just seemed relieved to know someone was going to be there with Reid.

Prentiss and JJ hardly batted an eye when Dave joined them at the car to explain the change of plans, it was probably a testament to just how disturbed everyone had been by the way Reid was struggling. Dave gave her his house keys and asked Emily if she'd feed the cat and check in with his dog- walking service, she nodded and got in. He was holding the car door open for JJ when she grabbed his arm and whispered fiercely, “I know you'll bring him back safe!”

Dave was taken aback, Hotch and Morgan were normally the ones who looked out for Reid. He'd always felt like they didn't really trust him when it came to Spencer. JJ must have read his thoughts from the expression on his face because she added quietly. “It's impossible for us to forget what Spencer was like when Gideon first brought him into the BAU, he was uniquely memorable. And for Derek, for all of us, it's a struggle to balance those memories with all that's happened since. It affects how we treat him, you don't have that problem.”

Dave thought sourly that it was hardly a ringing endorsement, and he was about to defend himself from this implied miss-treatment of Reid when JJ continued.

“And that's a very good thing. You actually see who he is now. At times we're all guilty of seeing him the way he used to be. Of trying to protect him. He doesn't need that, but I guess we do. So I trust you to look out for Spencer and help him deal with whatever this is.” Then she bestowed a serenely knowing smile on him and manoeuvred somewhat gracelessly into the car.

Dave stood there for a few seconds with a bemused look on his face as the car drove away. It was strange, the baby bump was unmissable, especially when she put headphones on it and played it classical music, and yet until that moment he'd never thought of JJ as a mother. But she had dispelled that forever with a few sentences and that smile.

He'd seen that smile on his own mother's face a thousand or more times over the years and it had never once occurred to him until this moment that it wasn't a smile belonging uniquely to Francesca Rossi. But now here was JJ smiling that very same smile all that had been missing was the pat on the cheek and you're a good boy, David Rossi.

Dave always liked to have things nailed down, he liked to know where he stood and he kept things neat, at least in his head. So it took a moment for him to mentally shuffle through the pages and amend his notes. He imagined crossing out girlish and pretty beside JJ's name then adding beautiful and kind and motherly. It seemed to satisfy his need pigeon-hole everyone he knew. And while it struck him as a little bizarre to think of a woman barely half his age in those terms he put it down to the whole pregnancy glow/nesting instinct phenomenon.

Not that he had experience in that area because the possibility of children had never figured in any of his marriages. And while he was an uncle several times over he had never happened to be around much when his sister or sisters-in-law had been pregnant. Something his brothers and his sister's husband Tony had told him he should get down on his knees and thank God for every day.

Dave was still turning this over in his mind as he wandered back into the hotel lobby and joined Morgan who was rapidly using up the rest of the credit he'd left on the slot machine.

“I kept our rooms, Reid already extended his reservation for another three days so I did the same.” Morgan spoke without glancing up.

“Any idea where he is?”

“If I know my boy, I'd say Reid's at the police station right now, finessing the Riley Jenkins file.”

“That sounds likely. You must know him pretty well, then?”

Morgan stopped his slot activities and spun slowly round on his stool. “You sound like you got questions.”

He gave Rossi a flat stare and held it until Dave answered with an equally impenetrable look and acknowledged. “I have questions.”

“So ask.”

Rossi smiled like a shark that tastes blood in the water, “When we get somewhere less public.”

Dave strolled across the foyer with his luggage and waited for an elevator, Morgan followed. They rode up in silence and Dave dropped his bag back inside his room then opened the connecting door to Reid's room. When Derek knocked, Rossi opened the door and handed Morgan a fist full of coins, telling him to bring candy and snacks from the vending machines, he figured if they were gonna' do this then they'd do it right. And holing up in a Vegas hotel room all day definitely called for snacks that were high in salt and sugar.

Morgan returned with the essential bag of peanuts and pretzels plus a Kit Kat, Reese's Cups and one lone Twinky. Dave had already raided Spencer's mini bar for a can of Cherry Coke, and while he would never admit to being slightly ashamed of his choice in soft drink, he was heartily relieved when Morgan asked if there was a Dr Pepper, thereby revealing his own questionable taste.

Dave turned the TV on and flicked distractedly through the channels until he hit on something that looked vaguely familiar. He set the sound low and dropped the remote. He felt he had done all he could to make this as painless as possible. The TV, the drinks and the snacks were all diversions, if the questions or the answers proved difficult from time to time then at least they each has something else they could focus on until they felt comfortable again.

Dave started. “When I first came back, Strauss offered me the opportunity to read the team's personnel files. I told her that wasn't my style. Said I'd rather work it out for myself. The only string I pulled was to make sure no one on the team saw my file. Including Hotch.”

“So you came in blind. That means you've been profiling us.” Morgan reacted angrily. “God-damn it! We have a rule on the team that we don't profile each other.”

“Well I know that now, Derek.”

“Yeah, now it's too late.” Derek snatched a bag of peanuts and opened it, stuffing a handful of the nuts into his mouth and chewing angrily for a minute.

“If it makes you feel any better I don't think I was very successful.”

“What the Legendary David Rossi admits failure?” Morgan dropped his eyes and concentrated on selecting another peanut to eat, but Dave caught the smirk he didn't try very hard to hide.

“I didn't fail, I'm just not convinced of my findings, yet.” Dave didn't hide his own smirk at all as he sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and started watching the TV.

“So what did you figure out?”

Dave had known Morgan wouldn't be able to control his curiosity forever, but he let the smug grin slide off his face as he started to talk again. “I think there's a healthy enough balance between totally fucked up and almost normal on the team. I think that on a good day it works pretty well. And in the context of the BAU I'd say that the team probably hits enough points on the cost-benefit/outcome- optimization statistical analysis report to ensure we all get to keep our jobs for another week or two.”

Judging by the way Morgan narrowed his eyes, a look that Dave had privately dubbed the Clint Eastwood because it was usually followed swiftly by a door being kicked in or some gun play, it seemed the patented David Rossi wit and sarcasm wasn't functioning was well as it should.

“You think some of us are almost normal?” Morgan dead-panned.

“I just read 'em how I see 'em, it's old school BAU, not this fancy new stuff you youngsters get up to.” Dave reached for the bag of pretzels from the table then sat back again, this time he put his feet up on the coffee table. He thought it was a shame they couldn't do this over a couple of beers, but there was no telling what they might be called on to do once Reid got back, so he made do with Coke and a handful of pretzels.

“Come on then man, spill. Who do you think is normal?”

“You know who Derek. Everyone knows who, once she stopped pretending she didn't have a boyfriend and that she wasn't pregnant.”

Derek laughed, “Okay I'll give you that one, so who else?”

“You know that too. Penelope.”

“You like my girl then?”

“Of course I do, she's kind-hearted, and she's kept her spirit. It's a rare combination in our line of work.”

“Yeah, she's a doll.”

They both applied themselves to watching whatever it was that was on the TV and Dave knew Morgan was trying to figure out how to ask the next question without revealing how important it was to him to hear the answer. So Dave decided to go easy on the guy and just tell him. “And I know you're wondering, so to put you out of your misery, I consider myself to be someone with an irredeemably fucked up life. Sure I have a nice house and all the great toys money can buy; the Italian sports car, the German electronics, Japanese golf clubs, a seat at the opera whenever I feel like it, and I know a guy who can get me into a VIP box when the Yankees or the Cubs play. I even have a pension portfolio that never went near a hedge fund or the Lehman Brothers.”

Morgan tipped back his head and laughed. “Oh yeah I feel your pain man, you are sooo fucked up.”

“But they're only things, my friend. The stuff life is really about, that I can't manage. I don't live alone by choice, it's not just bad luck that all three of my marriages failed. It's no one's fault but mine that for the last ten years my father gets up and leaves any room that I walk in to. It makes family gatherings impossible. Sometimes I think he's gonna die without ever speaking to me again. And it ain't a coincidence that my last two wives would like shoot me, and very possibly might if I ever get within thirty feet of them. And that the only people I can count as friends are the people I work with. I might be pretty damn good at the job but it's the only thing I have in my life that works. And I'm sure by now you've heard the stories of all the times I screwed that up too.”

Morgan was staring at him, all trace of humour vanished from his face. “You're being kinda hard on yourself, man.”

“When you get to my age lying to yourself is just pitiful.”

“Still that's harsh, Dave.”

Rossi didn't answer, he took a sip of his Coke and grabbed another handful of pretzels. He was quiet for a time, watching the TV again. Not that he cared what was on but he didn't want to meet Morgan's frank gaze just then. He was shocked he had revealed so much, it was a disconcerting feeling. But David Rossi had always lived his life with a brash devil-may-care attitude, so after a few uncomfortable minutes he looked up and said.

“I can take it!”

“That ain't funny.” But Morgan snorted, shoving Rossi's arm fairly gently, and Dave got the impression that he had passed some kind of final test. That Morgan had accepted him, not as a colleague but as a friend, as someone he trusted, and proof of that came a moment later when he asked. “So Hotch is the other fucked up person, right? You keepin' an eye on him right?”

“I don't think I've ever seen him this shut down. We all deal with our shit in different ways, and he's had a rough time lately but he's wound so tight, something's gotta give soon.”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah every day I walk in the office and I wonder if this is gonna be the day he cracks. It won't be pretty when it finally happens. I'd even thought of trying to contact Gideon, they were tight once, but I guess you were friends with him back in the day?”

“Yeah and I've tried to get him to open up but with Aaron you get so far and then he shuts you out.”

“If I wasn't so worried about Reid right now I'd be trying to come up with a plan to help the guy.”

“Or even just get him laid.”

Morgan snorted Dr Pepper out of his nose in response to that suggestion. “You're stealin' my best material here!”

“Get used to it kiddo, I'm the guy with the reputation as a player to uphold.” Dave grabbed his Coke can and drained it, then he got up to throw it away and raid Spencer's mini bar for any more goodies. The can of roasted cashews was fair game and he decided that if any driving was needed he'd make Morgan do it, so grabbed a bottle of beer.

They had kicked back and relaxed, Dave contemplated his new boots. The hand tooled leather was a little flashy, but they were amazingly comfortable, and while cowboy had never figured even remotely in his personal style he was glad he'd shelled out the six hundred bucks they'd cost him. Morgan seemed absorbed by the dark eyed beauty on the TV, she reminded Dave a little of his second wife but he supposed he shouldn't hold that against her. By the time Reid finally arrived with his box of files they were both deep in thought.

They went through the files, there really was pitifully little to go on, but enough for Reid to draw some worrying conclusions. And Dave thought he finally understood why everyone was so protective of Spencer. Hearing him speak so coolly about his own father, turned something in Dave's stomach.

You didn't have to be a genius to work out that Spencer Reid must have had a pretty difficult life. No one that smart or that awkward could have thrived in the state school system. But the way he acknowledged the implications of what his father might be, and still wanted to carry on because it was the right thing to do, that burned a hole in Dave's heart.

So he was hardly surprised that the first thing Spencer wanted to do was speak to his mother again, now that he had reviewed the case. He was disappointed that Reid didn't take them along, but there wasn't much he could say. Dave had speculated several times about the conflicted signals Reid gave off whenever his mother was mentioned, he found himself fascinated with the idea of meeting Diana Reid. The fact that the rest of the team already had only added to his curiosity and his frustration.

Dave managed to satisfy some of this curiosity by suggesting he treat Morgan to lunch while they waited for Reid to come back. Derek was always more relaxed when there was food about, and it didn't take long for Dave to steer the conversation around to the time Spencer had brought his mother to the BAU, partly for protection and partly to help with the case.

Morgan was close to his own family, especially his mother, despite the miles that separated them, and he had been amazed at first to discover Reid even had a mother of his own, if his version of the story was to be believed.

Privately Dave had always thought Morgan had a strange kind of rivalry with Spencer that made him seem at once proprietorial and yet dismissive of the younger man. Almost as if Spencer were somehow his own creation. And while Dave was the first to admit Spencer might seem like a bit of an odd duck he had picked up right away on how he was by turns deferential and at times almost meek in his demeanour, yet he could be fiercely protective too. It spoke to him of Spencer having likely been raised by a strong minded and yet fragile woman. Dave had assumed some kind of physical incapacity, MS or a prolonged Cancer, but the schizophrenia actually made even more sense.

Morgan told a good story though, and by the time he'd finished his club sandwich and iced tea and Dave had eaten as much of his very average Saltimbocca as he could stand, he believed he was prepared to very much enjoy meeting Diana Reid. Although he had to wonder what she would make of him. He only hoped that Reid had not been too candid in those daily letters he sent her, because he knew he had not made a good impression with the team at first, and maybe with Spencer in particular.

What he was in no way prepared for was the inexplicable feeling of jealousy that rose up in him a little later when Derek had moved on to the subject of Riley Jenkins, and he began to describe the dream that had made Spencer call out for his help in the night.

Dave remembered watching Spencer sleep on the plane as they flew out. He had detected the signs of distress, the slight restlessness as he moved in his sleep, shifting until his leg was pressed against Dave's. The frown that came and went and the slight pursing of his lips, Dave had probably watched the young man far more closely than was polite.

When Spencer woke up with a start to find everyone had been watching him sleep it had occurred to Dave that it was a very unnatural thing for them all to have done, but he had smiled at Spencer anyway to try and reassure him. At the time he had pretended it was all part of the team dynamic. That he was just getting sucked into that way they all had of looking out for Spencer. But now he had to be honest , at least with himself, because the truth was getting harder to hide.

Dave excused himself saying he was going to read through the files again and suggested that Morgan take Spencer and interview Riley's father, when he got back from Bennington. All Dave really wanted was some peace and quiet to consider what he was going to do.

Once he was back in his room it didn't take him long to admit he had been in denial for quite some time where Spencer was concerned. Maybe at first his interest had simply been a desire to get to know the team a little better, but that had changed.

David Rossi always was a social animal. He'd grown up in a large close knit-family. His Parents and his maternal grandparents along with his brothers and sister had all lived in the large family home in Chicago. Uncles and Aunts and all his cousins, as well as various in-laws, a couple of bachelor Great Uncles and some second cousins who had gravitated to the Rossi's, made up the rest of the extended family. Every Sunday his mother and her two sisters along with his grandma would be in one kitchen or another cooking a feast for upwards of thirty people. And that Sunday meal was a family tradition that continued to this day at home in Chicago.

The warmth and ease of those family gatherings, and the level of noise which had to be heard to be believed when several generations of Rossi's and Sciora's and Di Falco's all got together under one roof, had gotten into his blood young. Of course he had left it all behind when he moved to New York for college. He had been the only one of his generation to make that break deliberately. His brothers would have never left Chicago at all, and only his oldest brother Michael actually had left because he'd been drafted.

Moving away changed Dave in ways his family, and his father especially, didn't like. His marriage to a non-Catholic while he was still at college, then the job with the FBI just set the seal. David was the Black Sheep of the Rossi family, and nothing would change that, certainly not in his father's eyes. Over the years his professional success never did enough to outweigh those earliest failures to live up to what had been expected of him.

Two divorces and a failure to produce any children just confirmed what his father already knew, and with the third divorce any pretence at a relationship with him vanished. In a way the last ten years had been easier. Dave had simply given up trying to communicate with his father and instead he concentrated on his mother and his siblings. It did no harm that he was genuinely a good writer, and he truly enjoyed the creative process. That he was recognisably successful, and richly rewarded for it helped too. But it was the first time someone asked his mother if her son was The David Rossi which had somehow been the turning point.

From that moment onwards the rest of the family decided to simply to ignore the fact that David and his father didn't speak. He was invited again to all the family gatherings, weddings, christenings and graduations. Now all the major holidays saw a phone call from his mother asking him to come to Easter or Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner.

In later years those few times when he was back with the family had only served to highlight how lonely the rest of his life was. A writer is by nature a solitary creature, and while Dave loved the writing process the emptiness of his house had begun to weigh him down. So the call from Erin Strauss had been perfect timing. He had been eager to work with a team again.

And his interest in Morgan and Prentiss, JJ and Garcia and Spencer had seemed like natural curiosity. Even if he did seem to focus on Spencer, it might only be because Dave had never met anyone quite like him before, and Dr Reid was such an incredible resource for the team. He knew so much, could do so much, it was hardly surprising it had Dave watching him at first.

The change of focus had been gradual too. He simply hadn't recognised it was happening, until that moment., but now, he realised, it was unmistakable. He knew things about Spencer, intimate things, things he hadn't even know about his third wife while they were together, and he felt the desire to know more.

For example he knew Spencer always heaped four teaspoons of sugar into his triple espresso, but only added two to his latte or macchiato. He knew that Spencer never ate before noon, and that while he picked every shred of salad out of his sandwiches, he'd beg a dill pickle off anyone who was willing to part with it. He knew that Spencer loved dogs but was terrified of them too, and he knew that every day at ten past ten he religiously started a new letter to his mother.

Dave knew other things about Spencer as well, things he'd guessed, things he'd worked out and one thing he knew because he'd read it.

He was convinced no one else had picked up on the fact that Spencer was very often broke. The team was pretty much middle class, if not by birth then by virtue of the wages they were paid. Maybe not Garcia, because the analysts were paid on a different scale, but the rest of them were more than comfortable. By contrast Spencer lived it in a way that suggested he had grown used to having no money from an early age. There were subtle clues.

The way Spencer dressed looked like it could be a kind of anti-fashion statement, or simply the haphazard choices of a mind focussed on more lofty things than mere clothing. But Dave recognised that many of the clothes Spencer wore were often good quality just simply old and worn, which suggested Good Will.

His quirky food habits were another sign. Spencer still ate like a student. According to Garcia his cupboards were empty apart from spaghetti, cans of tomato soup and cereals. He usually brought peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to work.

Of course a selective eating disorder might have been a symptom of his childhood. Brought up by a schizophrenic mother, in a household that must have been chaotic and even frightening at times, an obsession over the food he ate might have been the only area of control Spencer had. But Dave had noticed Spencer would eat almost anything if it was free. Day old cake left over from birthdays. The pink-glaze sprinkle doughnuts that always got left in the box because no self respecting cop would be seen dead eating, whenever they were working out of a local law enforcement offices. Even the orange-coloured hard candy left over from Halloween.

Dave had pretty good idea why Spencer was so broke too, he didn't imagine Bennington came cheap. And while FBI agents had some of the best healthcare benefits around, Diana Reid's mental problems would be a pre-existing medical condition so he imagined Spencer had to find a good portion of the money himself to fund her stay. He had no doubt Spencer could have chosen somewhere less expensive for his mother to live, but Rossi knew something else about Spencer he was certain not even Aaron knew for sure.

He had been reading through some old case notes a few weeks earlier. It was a habit now to read and analyse every case file that related to the team. He had been mortified when he first started back at the BAU and Aaron had needed to take him aside to explain the way the team worked. To tell him the way he was expected to contribute.

Most of his working life he'd been the maverick, it had been up to the team to follow wherever he led them. So he had been at a loss how he could change, but then his old habits had kicked in. He figured he needed to know everything about every case they had worked on, both as a team and individually. Then he could analyse the way each of them contributed, and what specifically Jason Gideon had done for the team dynamic. Then he'd be able to work out what they needed from him. So he'd set about the task single mindedly.

It had worked too, up to a point, except he'd totally failed to take Garcia's contribution into account. Because the data she submitted to each report was unattributed, it had simply never occurred to him that one person could be responsible for the collation, management and presentation of so much raw data so effectively. He'd owned up to his mistake and taken his punishment with good grace though, once Kevin had pointed it out to him. And he never underestimated Penelope again.

It had taken a while longer to understand the rest. To see that what the team really needed from him was trust. That whatever he had to say would be a contribution, but the burden did not rest solely on his shoulders. That he needed to trust the team to get the job done.

Dave had realised it was something all of them had to work at in varying degrees, and while he no longer felt the compulsive need to be in control of every fact, the habit of reading the old files had stuck.

He read them now simply to understand the case from their unique points of view. He had begun to look forward to Spencer's reports for the way they revealed his stunning mental capacity. While he simply appreciated Morgan's spare beautiful writing style, knowing that one day he was going to speak seriously to him about that talent.

A few weeks ago he had been reading a report about Nathan Harris. Although it had never been a BAU case Spencer had been heavily invested in Harris and had followed up with his doctos several times. So had Gideon, once very shortly before he left the BAU.

Dave got the feeling Jason had been thinking of leaving the FBI for some time. It was gut reaction to some of his later reports, maybe it was just hindsight, realising they were the last he would write, but Dave thought he recognised the signs. A sense of distancing himself. A desire to tie up loose ends. He also assumed Gideon must have been distracted because that was the only thing that excused him from accidentally leaving the rough draft of a confidential report in the wrong file.

He had already started reading before he realised exactly what it was.

The report was Gideon's final recommendations on SSA Dr Spencer Reid's fitness to continue with the BAU. Dave had read the list of incidents that had raised questions. He knew about them of course, he'd read the files. But that had been over a period of time. Seeing it set out like that, the number of times Reid had been compromised. The number of times he had been in direct danger. The times he had been called on to discharge his weapon with deadly force. It had been shocking

Gideon had gone on to list the people he had spoken with, and what he had learned. Dave was reading a summary of Gideon's interview with Diana Reid when it occurred to him this was a formal profile. The kind of thing he had complied about Bundy and Koresh. He knew he should stop reading but he couldn't.

And it was too late to undo the images that were in his head now. Too late to take back the words he had read. Now he'd finally put it together he had to wonder at the strength it had taken for Spencer not to be broken by it all. Dave had felt a moment of unbearable emotion well up inside him. Pride and admiration for such a quietly brave young man.

Diana Reid's words had made him realise how strong Spencer must always have been. It had never occurred to David that Spencer's father could have deserted not only his mentally ill wife, but also his nine year old son, so completely.

Yet he should have realised that Spencer had been speaking the absolute truth when he said his father had abandoned them. Because Spencer seemed to have no defence mechanism when it came to the personal. Not that he was incapable of lying, Dave had heard first hand just how skilled a manipulator he could be when he had been a hostage at the Liberty Church Ranch. And clearly he had discovered there were things that Spencer simply did not speak of at all. But if he chose to speak then he was always painfully truthful.

So while many children from broken homes might say they had been abandoned it would be an emotional response. Spencer had spoken the literal truth.

In a way Spencer's incredible intelligence had done him no favours. It had been the means by which he had outsmarted the doctors and the social workers and the child welfare officers. An ordinary child would have been unable to maintain the façade that everything was functioning normally in the Reid household. An ordinary child would never have had the self-discipline to make sure the bills were always paid and the kitchen was stocked and that he kept up his school attendance.

Diana Reid must have spoken candidly to Gideon about her life with her son. That it had been a magically perfect upbringing for a child like Spencer was obvious. They had created a world of the mind, of the imagination, of books and poetry, of music and philosophies, and it had been filled with joy and unreserved love. Diana's words had made that abundantly clear.

And Dave thought he understood a little how terrible the burden must be that Spencer had been the one to destroy that world.

So he understood why Spencer would happily live like he did to keep his mother in the best place he could afford.

Next was a summary of the fallout from Reid's kidnapping and torture. He had begun to read details of an interview between Gideon and someone only referred to as Ethan. He suddenly realised he was reading a candid account the two nights Spencer had spent with Ethan in New Orleans, and that was when he stopped reading.

The fact he had stopped reading before he got to the end was something of a minor miracle. Rossi knew he was obsessive about information. The need to know simply out-weighed all other considerations, so that kind of restraint wasn't in his make-up. And maybe that should have been a sign of just what his feelings were. If he had been a romantic he might have realised it was the first time he really understood the desire to become a better man.

By the time Morgan and Spencer had returned from speaking with Riley's father Dave had weathered his emotional storm. He hadn't felt like that in years, and it was a good feeling. There was every chance he was going to make a complete fool of himself over this. But he'd done far stupider things in his time. Had courted disaster for much less worthy prizes. And the thing was up until that moment he had never imagined that he actually stood a chance of winning that prize.

Sometimes it seemed to him that the one compensation of age was the older he got the easier he found it to be foolish. And he acknowledged that he had the capacity to become very foolish indeed where Spencer Reid was concerned.

 

TBC.


End file.
